Lies
by Sela McGrane
Summary: He asks her if something's wrong, and she lies again. She's been hiding a breaking heart for three long months, and it's only getting worse.


**This is a short one... and for the time being it will be a stand alone. As a story I'm sure you would all love to see "what happens next", but the truth of the matter is that I don't know. This fic - very different style wise for me - started out when my husband asked me if something was wrong, and I lied. I've recently realized that a very dear friend of mine means more to me than I'd realized, and she's made some comments recently that make me wonder if she's feeling the same development. The Hermione at the end of this fic is about six months ahead of me. I'm not ready to talk to my friend at this point, though this spring I'm moving back to my hometown, where she lives. Once we're not 2500 miles apart, I believe a conversation will be in order, but till then, I wait, and you will have to wait as well... because as I said, I don't know what happens next. Meanwhile, enjoy this.**

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He asks her if something's wrong, and she lies again. She claims her hip is sore - an injury from the war acting up in the rainy weather. Her hip does hurt a bit, but she has potions to take care of the pain. No potion is going to take away the aching in her heart though, and that's what's really wrong. She's been hiding a breaking heart for three long months, and it's only getting worse.

Her daughter is nearly five, and her son is nearly four. Once, her conversations with Minerva McGonagall were filled with anecdotes about Rose and Hugo, or some other shared interest. What had been a mentorship in Hermione's youth had become a friendship during the course of the war. They'd only grown closer in the years since. Where once Minerva would counsel her through difficult times, now it's she that offers counsel to Minerva, as the older woman tries to navigate through the grief of an ailing mother, and the deaths of several friends. After everyone lost in the war, losing others to the ravages of time seems all the more profound.

The world still thinks the Headmistress to be strong as always, but she pushes even long time friends away in the midst of her grief. They can't help her. For some reason, Hermione finds herself the exception to the rule, and for that she's thankful, because she doesn't know what what sort of life hers would be without Minerva's presence in it. She doesn't want to know.

Three months ago Hermione had been going about her day when a stray memory had crossed her mind of Minerva laughing at her outright over some blunder during her last term at Hogwarts, and she'd smiled at the thought. _I love that woman_ , she'd thought to herself, and it had been a purely platonic thought which she'd had dozens of times before. But this time, this moment, caused her breath to catch. She'd stopped mid stride and realized something completely ridiculous.

She, Hermione Weasley, formally Granger, was in love with her best friend, Minerva McGonagall.

It's been three months, and she's finally come to terms with the emotion. She knows she's married. She knows she has two young children. She knows that it's just shy of impossible that Minerva would feel the same. Ever.

Or, at least, she thought she knew. Yesterday, she spoke to Minerva and the older woman confided that she was a bit frightened at how close they'd become. The elder woman is slow to trust in the best of times, and yet she tells Hermione everything. She also says she's not sure she trusts what she's feeling, in regard to her former student. Finally, she admits that she _needs_ Hermione in her life, and that last bit has Hermione's mind racing.

Hermione knows there's always a chance for everything. She knows a mutual love of the romantic sort, between she and Minerva is improbable at best, but still, it's possible. What Minerva said to her makes the younger woman think that maybe, just maybe, it's not so far fetched of an idea after all. She knows she loves Minerva. She knows she's _in love_ with Minerva. She also knows Minerva loves her, though it's yet to be determined regarding the depth of that love.

Today, Hermione is still thinking about the previous day's conversation, and Ron can see she's out of sorts. He asks her if something's wrong, and she lies again. He's asked many times in the last three months, and she always lies. He'd never understand. She doesn't know if even _she_ understands. She only knows what she's feeling. That much, at least, is sorted. It took a few months of denial, but she doesn't doubt it anymore. As angst ridden as she supposes she should be feeling, Hermione is at peace with this odd path her heart has turned down.

She asks Ron to watch the children, and she apparates over to Harry and Ginny's place. She's loathe to involve anyone else in the insane situation she finds herself but given what she only recently realized she was feeling, she knows she cannot be objective regarding Minerva's comments. The truth of the matter is that Hermione doesn't know what she even wants to believe. Minerva could simply be talking about the depth of their friendship, which would make things simple for Hermione, as an unrequited love did not involve temptation to act on it. On the other hand, with as close as they'd become in recent years, it really isn't _that_ far fetched to think that Minerva's comments could be indicating that the older woman was also developing a more intimate affection for her younger friend.

"Hermione!" Ginny says when she opens the front door. "This is a surprise."

She smiles at her sister-in-law, and waves at her long time best friend when she sees him sitting on the sofa. "Hi Ginny. Hello Harry."

"What's up, 'Mione?" Harry inquires with a frown.

Harry can read her better than anyone. Ginny and Minerva come in as close seconds when it comes to interpreting her tone of voice and body language, and Ron comes in behind them. Hermione knows that Ron does not believe her when she offers excuses for her mood of late, and if he can tell something's wrong, Harry would certainly be able to.

She relates to them some of the things Minerva has said to her, though she doesn't tell them it's Minerva who made such statements. Hermione needs them to remain objective. "So if someone, a dear friend, said those things to you," she finally asks, "how would you interpret it?"

Ginny laughs. "I'd say your friend was hitting on you."

Harry shakes his head. "No, I don't think it's a pass, per se. I'd say this friend has realized he's in love with you, but respects you and your marriage too much to actually say something. He'd not want to push you away by confessing, preferring to just deal with his feelings on his own and keep on being friends."

Hermione doesn't bother to correct Harry's pronoun usage. There's no point, really. She's not prepared to tell Harry or Ginny about her own feelings for Minerva, and more than that she doesn't want whatever is going on between she and Minerva to impact Minerva's relationship with them. Neither of them have ever been good at hiding what they are feeling, and until there is some resolution to whatever was going on between she and the older woman, she does not trust them to not tip her hand.

"Okay, thanks," Hermione says, turning to go.

Ginny looks puzzled at such an abrupt arrival and departure, though Harry signals his wife to stand down, while he sees her to the door. "Has this got something to do with why you've been so out of sorts lately?" he asks as they stand on front porch.

She can admit that much, so she nods. "I know you want more of an answer, but not now," Hermione pleads, knowing he's about to press for details.

He submits, offering a hug instead of an inquiry, and makes her promise to come by again soon before she departs. Hermione walks away from the house, and wanders down the cobblestone street for a time, just thinking. She knows what she needs to do, but she's afraid to do it. She's afraid if she confronts Minerva now, it'll be too soon. She also knows if she waits too long, and Minerva _is_ coming to terms with romantic feelings _now_ , that she risks the older witch having time to compose a long mental list of reasons they could never be together.

Hermione thinks about Ron. She thinks about the less than ideal state of their marriage, and how deep down she knows that she settled for him. She certainly had plenty of men showing interest, and more than a few women for that matter, in the aftermath of the war, though they had all show interest after fame. Ron had come to love the bushy haired know-it-all, and was a good man beside the point. Ron had been a safe choice. But Hermione isn't in love with Ron. She never has been and she doubts she ever will be.

Thoughts of Minerva, on the other hand, set her soul on fire. Even before she realized what she felt for her former mentor, Hermione had joked to more than one person that if ever asked to chose between Minerva and anyone else, she'd chose Minerva in a heartbeat. The case was doubly true now. Minerva was her rock. She was the foundation on which Hermione's very identity was built, and if that were stripped away, Hermione had no idea who she was. She hardly remembers a time before Minerva was a part of her life, and does not want to imagine any future in which Minerva is not there.

Three more months pass, and another three after that. Hermione has opted to hold her tongue for the time being, and merely watch the older woman carefully for a more concrete indication of what she is feeling. Hitting the six month mark of seeing Minerva's potential interest feels like a crux event, causing each day after to feel ten times worse than any of the days before. She only lasts another seventeen days before she once again, asks Ron to watch the children.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"Of course," she lies, again. "I just fancied meeting Padma for tea. Do you mind?"

"Of course not," he says, smiling tightly. Things between them have gotten worse and worse. It's not as though they're fighting all the time, though there is some of that. But things are tense. They're tense because Hermione can ill afford to offer any emotion to her husband when it's all she can do to hold herself together in the wake of feelings for another, and an indecision of what to do about it.

She's not meeting Padma. She's not going to see Harry, or Ginny, or any of her other friends. She's not even going out to get sloshed like she's shamefully done a handful of times in the last ten months. Today is the day. Today she is going to talk to Minerva.

One way or another, today is the last day for lies, because while Hermione is uncertain about a good many things, she is quite sure she can't keep living like this.

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